Osynlig
by Dogwood Rose
Summary: Alec vaguely registered how young she looked before he leaned over her, barring his teeth right above her throat. The thirst was too much, that beautiful, enticing, sweet taste... "la tua cantante. She is your singer." Alec/OC
1. Prolouge, To be Changed

**Osynlig**

_A/N: constructive criticism is welcome, this is my first Twilight FanFiction, and I'm quite excited._

_My main character: Charlotte (Lotta) and her relatives are mine (sounds so sinister lol) but the rest of the characters belong to the awesome Stephenie Meyer. Lucky her :)_

**_Prologue- to be Changed_**

It was a warm summers day in Italy. Mrs. Lockhart was sitting on a sofa in the lounge of her large home, scowling and fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing her long legs.

"Stupid, stupid girl." She muttered, over and over.

Absent-mindedly, the woman stood, wandering idly towards a large bookshelf at one end of the room.

She gently fingered the spines of the old books, finally pulling out a large dusty brown photo album. She sat down again, quickly snatching a glance at the front door before opening the book.

It was a wedding album, but the young woman smiling in the wedding gown, was not Mrs. Lockhart, although the resemblance was striking. Instead, the young smiling woman, was Mrs. Lockhart's younger sister. The deceased Mrs. Hansen.

It had been many years since Mrs. Lockhart had looked through this album. It contained too many memories.

She snapped the book shut, her lips thinned, and she got up, replacing the album as quick as she could.

Willow Hansen had been Mrs. Peyton Lockhart's only sister, and with only one year between them, the two had been very close. They had always looked similar, often being mistaken as twins, with the same curly strawberry blonde hair, the same bright green eyes and same slim build.

They had always been inseparable, even when they had both married, they continued to live close to one another.

Despite looking so similar, the two had still been surprisingly different. Peyton had always been the more active. At school, she had always been involved in extra curricular sport clubs, and yet she had also consistently managed to be the one who achieved best in school.

Willow had been a musician from a young age. By the time she was twelve, she was adept at playing the violin, piano and the flute. So whereas deciding on a future career had been difficult for Peyton, Willow had always known that music was her thing.

When Willow and her husband died, Peyton had been devastated, left for Italy with her husband, and never since returned to Sweden.

Peyton returned to the sofa, absently tapping her hand against the coffee table, waiting for the doorbell to ring.

Outside the house, a police officer had just arrived. He stood in the shade, in front of the door, and rang the door bell thrice.

He saw a middle aged woman opened the door. She had short strawberry blonde hair, dulled by age, but eyes, green, which still sparkled with life. She was tall, and wore a pale blue summers dress, with a creamy shawl draped across her shoulders.

"Oh, you must be here about Charlotte." the woman looked nervous, fidgeting with the shawl.

Please come in."

The woman led the officer through a large hallway to a large lounge. It was very light, with floor to ceiling windows showing a garden which looked more like a piece of art than anything else. The room had a contemporary Scandinavian style, with white walls, and darker furniture.

The woman sat down on a large chocolate brown sofa, and gestured for the police officer to sit down across from her on a matching sofa.

The police officer sat, taking out a small black notepad, and a silver pen. He looked up at her, and smiled, trying to put her at ease.

"Well, Mrs Lockhart, I am officer Colfer. Why don't you start at the beginning."

Peyton leaned back in the sofa, closing her eyes for a moment, then she opened her eyes, and opened her mouth to speak, gazing up at the ceiling.

"Well, Charlotte is my niece, my sisters daughter. My sister and her husband both died in an accident when Lotta was about a year and a half. They didn't have a will, and, to be perfectly honest, I didn't want to have to take the child, so my mother took the responsibility of being the girls guardian."

Peyton paused, looking distant.

"A couple of weeks ago, I received a telephone call from some Swedish official, that's where my mother and Charlotte lived, Sweden that is.

They told me that my mother had had a heart attack and that chances of her survival were minimal, that even if she did survive, she would be in no condition to take care of Charlotte afterwards."

The woman shook her head, as though trying to rid it of something particularly unpleasant.

"I wasn't very happy" she said, in a slightly snappish tone.

"I don't want to take care of the girl, and I don't see why it should be my responsibility."

Peyton sighed.

"But they talked to me, and finally I agreed that the girl could come and live with me here in Italy until a better arrangement was found."

Peyton looked at the officer sharply.

"Lotta was due to arrive yesterday afternoon. She didn't. My husband and I waited for her at the airport, but she never came. We spoke to the flight personal who said that, yes, the plane had landed, but we _couldn't find Lotta anywhere_."

Officer Colfer interrupted for the first time during the interview.

"So do you think that Lotta may have been kidnapped."

Peyton scowled.

"I think the little wretch ran off. I know that she was quite as reluctant to come here as I am to have her."

--*--

In a bus, rumbling along the motorway, a young girl was sitting, slumped in her seat, a large dark green travel backpack, clutched in front of her.

Dark Copper hair, hung in limp curls, hiding her face. She was slim, and willowy. Pale eyelids hid her bright green eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles adorned her nose.

Sneaking onto the tourist bus had been relatively easy.

She had no idea where they where headed. This whole trip had been a rather impulsive decision. Sitting on the plane to Italy, she had no plans on running away, only once she'd arrived, she'd sneaked in with a large group of tourists, and gone onto the bus, headed who knows where, before she even realised that she'd made the decision to do so.

A sudden bump in the road awoke Lotta, and she looked around blearily. She felt unusually calm, and settled down into the seat again, numbly wondering when she'd be asked to pay up for the trip.

A couple of hours later, a high lilting voice could be heard over the bus's loudspeakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now approaching our destination. I'd like to welcome you to _Volterra_."

Lotta sat up straight, mirroring the other excited passengers, looking out the window interestedly. She'd never heard of Volterra before, but the city looked beautiful.

The bus stopped and the woman who'd spoken on the loud speaker stood up. This was the first time Lotta had seen her properly. The woman was gorgeous and statuesque with strangely violet eyes, and long mahogany hair. She had long legs, and skin, so pale it looked almost white. The red dress she wore, was tight, and flattering, ending just above her knees.

"All right everyone," The woman smiled, and was instantly the focus of everyone's attention.

"My name is Heidi, and I will be you guide around the city today. Everyone off the bus, and we will begin."

Everyone began jostling to exit the bus, causing Lotta to be the last to get off. Once she finally gotten off, the woman had already started striding off, and Lotta had to run to catch up with them.

Volterra was beautiful.

The sun was shining, but the woman seemed to be keeping to the shadows of the buildings. Lotta stepped out into the sunlight, soaking up the warmth which wasn't a regular visitor to Sweden, following the crowd.

The woman, Heidi, led them into a large, dark church, pointing at paintings, and sculptures, stating dates, artists, rulers. She took them to a small door, hidden away in the building.

She smiled at them, as though this was going to be a special treat.

"This door leads to one of the lesser known palaces of Volterra. If you will follow me."

Using a small key, she opened the door, waited for everyone to get through, and locked it behind them again. They were inside a beautiful high ceiling hallway. There were no windows, but chandeliers illuminated it. Heidi began walking again, gesturing for the tourists to follow her, as she continued spouting off facts about the history of the palace.

Two massive double doors were opened, and everyone shepherded in. In the chamber were scores of people, many of them dressed in dark robes. Three thrones on a raised dais, were the focus of the room. Some of the tourists were eagerly getting out digital cameras, photographing the surreal scene.

Lotta, feeling suddenly uncomfortable, shrank into one corner of the room.

"People, _welcome_."

A strange looking man had stood up from the centre throne, gazing at each of the visitors, smiling as though they were each an old friend. His skin, seemed almost translucent, papery. His hair was long, and jet black. But it was his eyes that struck Lotta most. She gasped inaudibly as she noticed them, milky red. She shuddered, shooting a quick glance toward the other tourists. Had they noticed it? NO. They all seemed so excited. They couldn't have noticed.

Lotta looked around quickly, having a sudden feeling that something was not right. She noticed one of the men in robes smile at his companion, jerking his head toward the tourists, rolling his eyes. His friend grinned.

"Feast, my friends."

the man from the throne said, smiling at the robed people around the chamber. More robed people seemed to be entering, all surprisingly fast and beautiful. It all seemed so surreal. Lotta pinched her arm. Was she dreaming?

The surrounding people started closing in and Lotta pressed herself against one of the walls, willing them not to notice her.

The Frenzy didn't last long to the eyes of a human. Lotta shut her eyes in numb horror. Most of it was sounds. Screams, crying, that sickly sucking sound. Ripping sounds. Lotta stuffed her fingers in her ears, squeezing her eyes shut, but not all the sounds were prevented. Terror engulfed her.

She heard the man from the throne speak to some of the robed men, ordering them to dispose of the corpses. Then Lotta opened her eyes to the horrific scene.

Somehow, it seemed so strangely tidy after the massacre. No blood coated the floor. No, she had seen these monsters suck every last drop out of the people. None was wasted.

Everyone seemed to relaxed, so calm. The man on the throne was talking with a smile on his face, to the two others on thrones. Aro, they called him.

Lotta was shaking all over, not yet fully understanding that this was for real. She gasped, sucking in a ragged lungful of air, suddenly aware that she had been holding her breath.

Aro looked up suddenly, listening. He turned slowly, his eyes landed on Lottas, for the first time since she'd entered.

He stood up, expression confused, seeming to sniff at the air. He could barely smell her scent. How strange.

"Felix, fetch the _human_ for me." he said, in a slow, calm voice.

Lotta's breathing hitched in horror.

"Human?" The guard Felix' brow was furrowed as he looked toward his master.

Aro frowned.

"_That one_ over there."

He pointed at Lotta. Felix looked at where Aro was pointing, also noticing Lotta for the first time. Faster than Lotta was able to comprehend, Felix had grabbed her and dragged her in front of Aro.

"We _overlooked_ one." Aro muttered. What could this mean. Could this be a gift? She could hide herself, cause herself to remain unnoticed? Were she changed, what heights might this gift take? Might the child have a gift of invisibility?

"_Fascinating."_

Felix looked at Aro, confusion evident in his expression.

"Master?"

Aro held up a hand, silencing Felix, gazing at Lotta.

After a moments silence Aro called out.

"Heidi,"

Heidi was at his side within seconds.

Aro took her hand, caressing it as he continued to gaze at Lotta.

"You don't remember bringing this one." He stated, a considering look entering his eyes.

Heidi's expression was equally confused.

"This girl?" Heidi paused. "Master, I assure you, I never noticed this one."

A smiled crept onto Aro's face as he gazed with rapt attention at Lotta.

"How..." He paused. "...utterly intriguing."

He turned and smiled at Marcus and Caius.

"She could make a _fascinating_ addition to our numbers, don't you think."

He turned to Lotta again, not waiting for an answer.

"If you want Aro." Marcus spoke, in that bored tone of his.

"I_ do_." Aro said, in a whisper, stepping closer toward the girl.

Lotta struggled in Felix' grip.

There was a sudden bang, as the doors at the west side of the chamber opened suddenly. Alec entered, his expression distracted, growling.

Jane entered seconds after, expression uncertain. She took in the scene, Aro, the human girl in Felix' grip. She managed to grab onto Alec' jacket as he started forward, but he pushed her away with a strength that she'd never felt from him.

_"Aro!"_ she called out in warning.

Alec was moving towards Lotta, knees bent in an almost feral like stance, moving with inhuman speed.

Desperation coursed through Alec's body. That smell of blood was everywhere, such a sweet, perfect smell. The need for that blood, to sink his teeth into it. Let it drip down his throat and quench the thirst.

His throat was burning, flames licking his insides with terrible ferocity. So thirst he hardly knew what he was doing. All he knew was that he had to taste that delicious, hot blood.

He reached out with both his hands, taking Felix by surprise. He flung him across the room.

He reached out, gripping the girl and pulling her towards him faster that she could comprehend. Her skin was warm, soft. He vaguely registered how young he looked before he bent down, leaning his barred teeth over her throat. He lowered his face, trying to drag time out, enjoy this scent, this taste as long a possible, but the thirst was too much.

He could hear a faraway voice shout: "_STOP HIM!" _Sensory paralysis. His gift. Aro was silenced.

He bit into the girls neck, right at her throat, feeling her warm, soft skin against his lips, wet with blood. He heard a faraway scream. Horror and pain in a tortured mixture. The taste was beyond anything he'd ever experienced before.

Suddenly a pain, worse than any he'd ever felt before, worse even, than the pain of thirst rippled through his body, momentarily distracting him from his feast.

He was Burning. Inside and out. The pain was torturous.

_"Felix, get the girl away from him. NOW! take her to one of the towers."_

_Minutes, seconds, hours._

The pain vanished just as suddenly as it had arrived, and Alec felt someone help him sit up. _Jane_.

He looked around. Everyone was staring at him. The girl was gone, although a soft reminder of that powerfully enticing scent still remained.

Alec stopped breathing, for the first time in his life, attempting to control the desperate thirst he was feeling. Oh, that beautiful, enticing, sweet taste...

Jane's eyes were sombre, her silently communicated apology.

Alec reached out to hug her. _Forgiveness._

Aro stood behind them, gazing at the two twins.

He went over to them, reaching out his hand for Alec's. Hesitating for less than a split second, Alec reached out his hand.

Aro's eye looked distant. "_la tua cantante._ Your singer." He muttered, releasing Alec and striding back up to his throne.

Up in one of the towers, Lotta writhed in pain, and the poison which Alec had injected into her body began to take hold.

Everything was on fire. Burning everything, leaving something unfamiliar in its wake.


	2. Chapter I, Difference

**Chapter II- Difference**

How does one describe pain? My pain is like nothing I'd ever believed possible. It's everywhere, licking at my insides, like flames, burning me to ashes. Only I never crumble. I just lie here, tortured by this agonising pain.

How long has it been? Months? Years?

I gave up on screaming when my voice gave out. No one came.

Acid is poured down my throat, leaving it raw and burning. Like someone has been rubbing it with rough sandpaper.

I've settled into a curled up ball. My eyes are clenched shut, tears burn my cheeks. My teeth are clenched, and I'm clutching my knees as hard as I can, trying to hold onto something, where there is nothing but suffering. My heart is beating so fast its almost a blur to my ears.

Is this death? Am I in hell? What could I ever have done, to warrant such a punishment?

The burning inside me has grown, engulfing me entirely within its grip. I hold my breath. I am shaking all over with the physical exertion of so much pain. The flames seem to have reached their peak, and I open my mouth to scream with agony, only no sound comes.

Then, finally. The end must be near. The pain begins to dull at an excruciatingly slow pace. I bite my lip, willing for the torment to be over. My heart seems to stutter. It probably couldn't take all the stress of the pain. The burning ebbs away, at last, leaving only a sharp burning pain in my throat. My heart stops. Death. I don't dare move, just in case the burning flares up again. Whoever said death was peaceful? I mouth the word, _death, _trying to get a grip on it.

Slowly, slowly, I unclench my eyes, opening them, where am I?

Death is beautiful, if painful. Wonderful, sparkling particles float around the air, catching the light and spreading a new spectrum of light across the room. Colours and objects are sharper and clearer, sharper lines and curves, clearer differences.

I reach out, with a tentative finger to touch the thick, plush red carpet which I'm lying on.

My hand is pale white. I blink. So different from the charred black bone I'd been expecting.

I pull back my hand, clenching it into a fist. That lone pain in my throat, once such a relief from the pain I'd experienced before, seems to be sharpening, stabbing at my throat. Craving something to satiate it. I gasp, releasing the breath I'd forgotten that I'd been holding, clawing at the carpet, desperate for that burning thirst to be satisfied. But I don't know how. I hear footsteps approaching from far off, moving faster than they ought to be. Come to welcome me to death?

The door opens.

I twist to a standing position, quicker than I'd thought possible. Unsure of my visitors.

Three figures enter, one man and a female and a young boy. All seem distinctly familiar. Behind them, remaining outside the room, are four hulking figures in dark robes. They look at me, warning in their eyes. I need to be on my guard from those.

Almost unconscious of my actions, I bend my knees slightly, as though preparing for a fight, but for some reason, I don't feel afraid.

The man who entered seems to notice this, and smiles. I don't. The man has long, jet black hair and pale skin. His eyes are milky red.

I remember.

A strange hissing sound escapes my lips as I recollect, and I back off, crouching further into a fighting stance, my feet apart. My throat burns.

"_Charlotte._" The man says. I vaguely recognise my name. An unearthly growling rips through the silence, and It takes me a moment to realise that the sound is coming from me.

I suddenly notice how afraid the woman next to the man looks. She's standing right up against him, her hand constantly touching his black coat. She's shooting frightened looks toward the men outside the room. The man reaches and pats her hand reassuringly, without taking his eyes off me.

"Where am I?" I hiss and my own voice startles me. It sounds terribly threatening, but higher, sweeter than my proper voice.

The man seems to notice my surprise. "Charlotte," he says again. The burning in my throat is building up and I find it hard to concentrate on the man's words over the craving my body has.

So thirsty.

Subconsciously, my hand reaches up to my throat. The man smiles.

"Yes, you must be very thirsty. I apologise for not realising, it's been many centuries since we've had a newborn amongst us."

My brow furrows as I absent-mindedly register what he's said, but the pain still consumes most of my attention.

The man reaches out to get my attention. My body seems to automatically interpret this as a threat and I remove my hands from my throat, growling. It sounds torturous. I can barely believe its coming from me. What has happened to me. This thirst is unbearable.

"Come," The man says, speaking calmly, despite my display, although his woman seems terrified. "_Master!_" she hisses under her breath, but the man ignores her.

"We will give you something to help against the burning." he says gently.

I stop growling, that sickly craving filling me again. I force myself to nod, my hands up at my throat again.

I follow the man out of the room, down one of the many corridors.

The change in smell comes so suddenly, and unexpectedly, going from the airy, light smell of somewhere high up, to a smell so overpowering that I could no longer control myself. A smell so powerful that I barely realise that I'm leaving my guides behind.

Sweet, light, with a slightly creamy orangey tang. Sharp, but still soft, I _know _that this is the scent of my cure. I don't know what it is, all I know is that I must taste it, drink it, consume it. This will stop the burn. This is what my body craves, my body needs.

Everything is a blur.

The scent is not difficult to follow. It's strong, and the closer I get, the more desperate I am, until I am running, running for my life, the burning increasing.

I am no longer the one who is in control of my body.

The smell reaches its peak by a large metal door. A large lock hangs by it.

Locked.

My relief lies behind there. Some small, very small, part of me looks at the door in despair, knowing that I can never get past that without a key. The current dominant part of me doesn't stop to think. I grasp the door, ripping it apart, destroying it with complete ease, as though I were ripping a piece of paper.

I don't even register what is in the room. Instinctively, I reach across as fast as I can, toward the smell. My fingers grasp something surprisingly warm, and delicate. My fingers break the thin film which protects my relief and I bend down my head, drinking the liquid.

The main part of me barely registers the taste, but gulps down the liquid faster than would be humanly possible, drinking desperately to satiate the craving, the burning. The smaller, weaker part of me registers a taste, more delicious than anything I've ever tasted. It tastes warm, creamy, but still clear, clean. The orangey tang is there, along with thousands of other tastes which my mind barely manages to register before I am finished. I can feel the deliciously warm liquid sloshing around in my stomach, warming me from the inside.

But its not enough.

The burning remains, only slightly dulled. Barely aware of my actions, reacting instinctively, like an animal, I smell the presence of more of my cure. I reach out, grasping for more. This time I bite into it, sucking out the sweet liquid, gripping the delicate container harder than it can take, breaking this one as well. That small part of me, defiantly not in control, vaguely registers that I should be more careful with them, so as not to waste any of the drink. The part of me in control, however, doesn't have time to think of this, and even less time to respond to it. Drinking in gulps, swallowing so fast that this one also is empty in no time.

After what seems like seconds, there is none left in the room. I feel heavy, If not fully content. The burning has been reduced to a dull burn. I begin to regain my senses.

I am sitting on a cold, stone floor. The room is windowless, but for some reason, I am still able to see.

The room looks like the scene of a horrific massacre. Corpses litter the floor. I feel sick. _Who could do something so terrible. _Confused, I clutch my head. _What am I doing here? _I take a deep breath. The room doesn't smell like death. In fact, I can still smell that delicious smell of the cure to my craving. It takes me a moment to realise that the smell comes from the bloody marks of the floor by the corpses.

I take a step back, a horrific though sweeping through me.

_No! _

I look down at myself. My hands are bloody, my clothes torn and streaked with blood. My horror rising, I lift my bloody hands to my nose and take a deep breath. That sweet, creamy taste, the delicious warmth. I moan in horror. I can almost feel my instinctive, uncontrollable side rising again, upon the presence of the smell, but I repress, backing off.

My back hits a cold wall. A scream fills the room, so horrified, despairing, unearthly.

I look about me in terror, realising again, that I am the one making that tortured sound. Me.

I see the man, woman and young boy standing in the doorway to the room with the hulking men behind them.

_Kill me now! _I want to say. _You saw what I did! I've become a monster! _But the words don't come. Just that chilling howl of pained despair.

I sink to the ground, reaching up and gripping my head. Mentally exhausted, if not physically. I want to die.

A sudden numbness seems to come over me.

Slowly, I raise my head. The boy is standing over me, his hand, hovering over my shoulder, expression unsure.

Up close, away from the older man, he doesn't look quite so young. Around my age, maybe older. Despite the darkness, he is clearly visible to me.

His hair is like dark chocolate, his skin as pale as mine though he looks slightly flushed. He has dark, purplish bruises beneath his vividly red eyes. Somehow his eyes don't terrify me as much as the man's do.

Tentatively, as though gauging my reaction, the boy reaches down a hand, offering to help me up.

I take it, welcoming the numbness, letting it coat me in a shimmering, hazy mist. He leads me out of the room, and up through the corridors, back to the room in which I woke up. The man and woman follow us, I notice the man shooting the boy strange glances.

When we arrive I sit. The boy remains standing beside me.

The man is still smiling. Sick.

"Charlotte." he crouches down in front of me. To appear less intimidating? Something tells me that I could destroy him easily. I want to scowl, but the numbness inside me is so sweetly relaxing.

"I take it you have realised that you are no longer human."

I don't like this man. _Yes! _ I _am _a monster. I did notice. Idiot.

"You see Charlotte, your pale white skin, your strength, your... thirst..." He pauses to see how I react, but I feel peacefully numb and don't react.

"...these," he continues, "are all the characteristics of a Vampire."

Now I focus.

"You may not remember, our kind often find it difficult to remember our human life, but four days ago, you were bitten by a vampire and thereby transformed into one yourself."

I get the feeling that the haze is what's causing the numbness. Surely I ought to be at least slightly bothered by this, but somehow, I remain numbly calm.

"I am Aro," The man says, "I, and three other Vampires, lead this Vampire coven. We are the law."

I shudder. Vampires. The thirst, the numb burning in my throat.

Aro smiles at me. "It will take some time for you to get used to this new life. It is important that we remain unknown to the humans, and as you are newborn and inexperienced in controlling your thirst, you will have a mentor who will help you until you are able to control your thirst."

I try to concentrate, but it all seems so surreal. I want to believe that this is all just a dream. That I'll wake up in a minute, feeling very much alive, but something tells me that that will never happen.

Aro looks up at the boy. There is a calculating look in his eyes that I don't like. I detest this man.

"This is Alec." Aro says, his gaze, slinking back to meet mine. "He will take care of you." I felt Alec stiffen beside me. Aro's smile grew.

Aro rises to leave the room.

"Wait" I say. That strange, high, sweet voice coming from my lips, startles me again.

"How is this possible," I hiss, even the numbness can't keep the anger, the uncertainty, the fear from my tone.

"Anything is possible Charlotte." Aro says. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a small, ornately carved golden mirror. He hands it to me, a small calculating smile playing on his lips.

"Look at yourself. Anything different?"

I don't want to look in the mirror, if not because I'm afraid of what I will see, because he told me to. But slowly, I lift the mirror so its level with my face. At least, I thought it was level with my face. Two, large eyes glare back at me. Both, a brighter, and more vivid red, than any of the others in the room. My hair too, is different. Again, a more vivid red than it was before.

In my horror at what has happened to my face, I hiss, and fling the mirror away from me. Aro reaches up a hand and catches It in mid air.

"That is very valuable." He states, tucking it neatly into his pocket again.

Aro stares at me for a moment, in silence. I wonder what he sees in my face. Loathing of what I have become? Disbelief? I believe he sees more than I understand. He reaches out toward me. I glare at him, backing up against the wall, but the numbing sensation seems to spur, and suddenly I don't seem to care any more.

Aro reaches out, touching my face, and then reaches for my hand.

He doesn't take my hand like any normal person would. Perhaps it is a vampire thing. He grasps it, like he owns it. Like it was his possession, and he now wants it back. The woman is hovering nervously at Aro's shoulder. I wonder what importance she is to him? Anyway, her concern is unwarranted. I think this numbness, now so sweet, could be the undoing of a creature. Aro could destroy me and I don't believe that I would care.

He caresses my hand, gazing at it, a hungry look entering his eyes.

It seems like ages till he releases me. When he does, his gaze is different. He doesn't look at me the way he did before. Something tells me that this man is someone to be careful of. He's not someone I'd like to cross, despite his fragile appearance. He looks at me as though he's seen my soul. As though he knows me implicitly, better than I even know myself.

He gazes at me through wondrous eyes.

"You, are truly an amazing creature, Lotta." He whispers, and his words don't cause a shiver of revulsion to ripple through me as I had expected them to. Instead, I sit passively, staring back at him with my vividly red eyes. Red, like blood.

I don't know what to say, so I remain silent.

"Aro can read every though you have every had, with just one touch." the voice came from above me, and I look up at Alec. It's the first time I've heard him speak. He has a rich, beautiful voice.

I shudder slightly, feeling suddenly very insecure, at the thought that Aro may know me, better even than I know myself.

"What happens to me now, as a vampire." I say, fearing the answer, but needing to know.

"You will firstly need to learn to control your thirst," Aro glanced at Alec, looking thoughtful. "without Alec's help at numbing it."

I furrow my brow confused. The numbness seems to retreat slightly. My mind feels clearer, but with that comes the burning. It's not so bad, the mist still numbs my throat, but less than before, when I felt almost fully sedated.

Aro turns to leave, but before he does, I need to ask one last question.

"Aro," He turns, still smiling.

"Yes child,"

"Who..." I pause, not sure how to phrase my question. "...bit me?"

Aro frowns, his gaze flickering to Alec, whose presence I can still feel hovering beside me.

"Alec bit you, my dear..." He smiles,

"...you see, you were his singer."

I frown. _His singer? What on earth does he mean by that?_

Aro's smile grows, as though he knows what I am thinking.

"Your blood Lotta. It sang to him." Aro pauses, looking thoughtfully at the two of us, Alec and me.

"Yes Lotta, you _are_ his singer."


End file.
